SALLY SANTANA | How have you made yourself a prisoner?

A person ends up in jail because they have, in some way, violated someone else's rights.

People in jail are usually there for a short term — a year or less in most cases. And the violation would have been for a misdemeanor; those convicted of a felony go to prison, which is more than a year. Sometimes they die there, either because other people have decided they should, i.e. the death penalty, or for other reasons.

A primary function of a prison is to keep you away from others; to prevent you from doing more harm. Another purpose, some say, is to punish you for being bad. That's a very simplified explanation, somewhat debatable, but fairly accurate. Life isn't supposed to be easy there. But if you're on your best behavior and don't receive any infractions (breaking the rules), or the government runs out of money, you can sometimes get out early.

Getting out of prison is probably the primary goal of everybody in one, wouldn't you think? After all, being in a prison limits your ability to come and go as you please. It inhibits you from doing what you want in life, eliminates many choices and opportunities, and keeps you from being with those you love. You aren't free.

Why would anybody choose to be in prison?

There are physical prisons, and there are also mental, spiritual and emotional ones that restrict what you do in life every bit as much as those made out of concrete and steel. They slam the door shut on your potential, your dreams, what you can offer the world.

Back in 2007, at a Forgiveness Day event at St. Paul's Episcopal Church in Bremerton, Sufi minister Jamal Rahman spoke some words that hit me physically and changed the direction of my thinking. He said, "In your life, whose approval are you seeking? At the heart of all wisdom traditions is this insight: whoever's approval you seek, you are their prisoner. So choose your jailers with care and deliberation."

I have no idea what he said following that; I was rooted into the pew. I'd exhaled and forgotten to breathe back in. My life passed by inside me in a flash, like someone had pulled the ribbon of film from an old-style camera and each frame was a year of my existence. I'd lived my whole life that way! I was everyone's prisoner, from some family members to the kids and teachers at schools I attended, to those at church and work. I lived in fear of offending people, not measuring up to expectations, and therefore not being loved.

What thoughts or beliefs have made you a prisoner inside yourself — stifled your creativity and happiness? What did someone tell you back when you were seven, or 27, or 57 that caused you to feel you were less than whole? Did you make the mistake of believing that life was only for surviving, not thriving?